«Hatch knows who I am,' Ahren said quietly, eyes scanning the mostly empty room as he spoke. «Or at least he knows what I am. He might not know my name yet, but there is a good chance he will find out. Or if not him, then one of the crewmen. All of them will be asking around, talking with other Rovers.»
«Maybe not,' Pen offered hopefully. «You might have scared him out of it.»
Ahren smiled. «Not likely. Not that man. If he finds out who we are, he will look for a way to turn it to his advantage. It's his nature. So we have to be very careful until we set sail again. That's why I didn't tell him where he could find us. He mustn't know. If he betrays us, our enemies will still have to search us out. That won't be easy in a city of this size.»
«We should just leave him right here and now and be done with it!» Tagwen snapped. He scowled into his glass. «Take him up on his offer. That way we can stop worrying about him.»
«But not about getting to where we have to go,' Ahren replied. «I don't trust him, either, but he is right when he says we will have trouble finding anyone else to fly us into the Charnals. Even by looking, we risk giving ourselves away. Say what you want about Hatch, he knows how to sail. His reputation is one of getting in and out of tight places. We need that. I think we have to stick with him.»
«One of us could watch the Skatelow and see who comes and goes,' Khyber suggested.
Her uncle shook his head. «That's too risky and too time–consuming. Besides, any one of them could give us away. We can't watch them all. Better to keep our heads down and wait this out. I will speak with Hatch each day to see how matters stand. If he lies to me, I will know. The rest of you will remain here, inside, out of sight. No one leaves the inn without permission until it is time to sail. Agreed?»
All of them nodded, but Pen already knew it was an agreement he was going to break.
* * *
He waited until it was dark and Tagwen was asleep before slipping out of his bed. He crossed the room in his bare feet, boots in hand, and went through the door without a sound. Instead of leaving by the inn's front entrance, he went out the back, taking the rear stairs to the street. Cloaked and hooded, he went quickly toward the waterfront. The night air was clear and sharp, turned cold after sunset, and the sky was bright with stars. It was close to midnight, but the streets were still bustling with activity, the denizens of the ale houses and pleasure dens just beginning their night's fun. Many were sailors, come from all over, a mix of travelers passing through. None of them looked at him. None spoke.
He was taking a chance, risking everything. He was neither happy nor sad about it, felt neither guilt nor satisfaction. Such things didn't matter to a boy who thought he was in love. What mattered was that Cinnaminson was waiting, and the thought of her drove every other consideration from his mind. His excitement gave him courage and determination. It gave him a sense of invulnerability. Whatever happened, he was a match for it. His certainty was so complete that he never stopped to question whether his bravado might be playing him false. On that night, there was no place in his heart for rational thinking.
He reached the waterfront and began working his way down the docks. New ships had arrived, some of them bigger than anything he had ever seen. He looked closely for the Galaphile as he went, but did not see her. Nor did he see Terek Molt or any other Druids. Loading and unloading went on about him, unceasing, unending, and all seemed as it should.
When he reached the Skatelow, he moved into the shadows across from her, staying well back from the light. There was no sign of life aboard. Even the storm lamps were extinguished. The boarding ladder was pulled up, signaling that visitors were unwelcome. On the piers to either side, similarly darkened ships lay at rest, sleeping birds awaiting the dawn.
Pen eased along the wall of the warehouse that fronted the slip, then moved just to the edge of the light that pooled down from the lamps hung over the entrance doors. He stood there, undecided, searching the contours of the Skatelow for signs of life.
Then he saw her. She appeared all at once, beckoning to him, knowing somehow that he was there. He took a chance, his throat tightening with anticipation. He stepped into the light, crossed the dock to the mooring slip, and stopped just below where she stood.
«Cinnaminson,' he said.
Her blind gaze shifted and her hair shimmered in the moonlight. «Wait,' she whispered. She moved at once to the ladder and dropped it over the side. «Come up. They're all in town at the ale houses and won't be back before dawn. We're alone.»
He did as she said, climbing the ladder and hauling himself aboard. He stood on the decking in front of her, and she reached to take his hands. «I knew you would come,' she said.
«I couldn't stay away.»
She released his hands and pulled the ladder back aboard. «Sit with me over here, out of the light. If they come, they need me to lower the ladder to let them aboard. By then, you can be over the side.»
She led him to the far side of the pilot box, where the shadows were deepest, and they sat down with their shoulders touching and their backs to the low wall. Her milky eyes turned to find him.
«Let's not tell each other any lies tonight,' she whispered. «Let's tell each other only truths.»
He nodded. «All right. Who goes first?»
«I do. It was my idea.» She leaned close. «Papa knows who you are, Penderrin Ohmsford. He knew Ahren Elessedil was a Druid after what happened during the flit attack, and he found out the rest from asking around the docks. He didn't give you away, or let on that you were passengers on the Skatelow, but he knows.»
Her smooth features were tight with trepidation and uncertainty, her chin lifted as if to take a blow. Pen touched her cheek. «Ahren told us this might happen. It isn't unexpected. But he had to reveal himself if he was to save us.»
«Papa knows this, and he doesn't forget such favors. I don't think he intends you harm. But I don't always understand how he thinks, either.» She took his hands again. «Will you tell me where you are staying? So that if I discover you are in danger, I can warn you?»
He hesitated. It was the one thing he had been ordered not to reveal, no matter what. He had promised to keep it a secret. And now Cinnaminson was asking him to violate his trust. It was a terrible moment, and his decision was made impulsively.
«We are lodged at Fisherman's Lie, about half a mile into the city.» He squeezed her fingers. «But how will you find us, even if you need to? You'll have to ask for help, and that's too dangerous.»
She smiled. «Let me tell you another truth, Penderrin. I can find you anytime I want, because even though I am blind, I can see with my mind. I have always been able to do so. It is the way I was born—with a different kind of sight. I travel with Papa because I can see better than he can in darkness and in mist and fog, bad weather, storms of all sorts. I can navigate by seeing with my mind what is hidden to his eyes. That's why he can go into places others cannot—across the Lazareen, into the Slags, places cloaked by weather and gloom. It's like a picture that appears behind my eyes of everything around me. It doesn't work so well in daylight, although I can see well enough to find my way about. But at night, it is clear and sharp. Papa didn't know I could do this, at first. When Mama died, he began taking me to sea rather than leaving me with her relatives. He never liked them or they him. Having me travel with him was less trouble than finding someone he trusted to raise me at home. I was still very young. I thought I was being given a chance to prove I was worth keeping. I wanted him to love me so that he wouldn't give me up. So I showed him how I could read the sky when no one else could. He understood my gift, and he began using me to navigate. I let him do so because it made me feel secure. I was useful, and so I believed he would keep me.»
She paused. «Papa doesn't want anyone to know this. Only the two men who serve as crew know, and they are his cousins. Both are sworn to secrecy. He is protective of me; I am his daughter and helpmeet. But I am also his good–luck charm. Sometimes, he isn't clear on the difference. I think he loves me, but he doesn't know what loving someone really means.»
She reached out and cupped his face in her hands. «There. I've given you a gift—a truth no one else has ever heard.»
He took her hands in his own and squeezed them gently. «You've kept this to yourself a long time. Why are you telling someone now, after so long? Why disobey your father's wishes like that? I wouldn't have minded if you had kept it secret.»
She freed her hands, and her fingers brushed at her hair and face like tiny wings. «I am tired of not being able to talk about it with anyone. Not talking about it is like pretending I am someone other than who I really am. I
